Happy New Year!!

Hoo-boy.

The last few months have been hard. I sprained my knee (twice; the second time really scared me) and so I had to drop out of the Arts Club Christmas show for a week and a half, then we had to close early on Christmas Eve due to the Omicron surge, and while all that was happening, my partner of 5 years and I broke up and I've had to find a new place to live.

That was a lot. That was maybe too much. As I watch the horizon eat the sun on this New Year’s Eve, with the climate-change cold creeping in, there’s a corresponding feeling in my chest. It feels like a darkening. It feels like a growing nothing.

But.

I ran 10km this year, not very quickly, but I did it — ran all the way around the Stanley Park seawall. That felt like something. I started the process of self-publishing a novel I’ve been tinkering with for nearly a decade. That feels like something. And I got back on stage, even for just a few weeks, after two years of missing it like oxygen. And that feels like something.

I don’t know if 2022 will be worse or better, but I think 2021 has given me a crash course in the unexpected and catastrophic, so maybe I’ll just slip into January with a little swagger and dare the new year to say boo.

Got a couple theatre contracts lined up over the next 6 months, COVID permitting. I’ll try to remember to post about them here, as well as any news about the novel. Promise.

(Photo Credit: @reaonford on twitter.)